


Dessert for Christmas

by Backwardshirt



Series: Dessert for Christmas [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon Divergence, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Grimmjow is a little shit, Grimmjow likes Ichigos bed, Ichigo is absolutely hopeless, M/M, Some Humor, Touch-Starved, Touching, can't they be soft with eachother, sleepy Grimmjow, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt
Summary: Ichigo doesn't know what he's going to to with the sleepy arrancar who has taken over his bed. Push him out? Wrap him in a blanket burrito? Pour cold water on him?But his sleepy face is kind of cute, so maybe he'll just help Yuzu, Karin, and Kon with the Christmas preparations instead. Of course, hours go by and he forgets about the intruder in his bed. That is, until Kon finds him.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Dessert for Christmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072574
Comments: 13
Kudos: 213





	Dessert for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I took a short break from Kingdom Crumb, but don't worry, that is still at the forefront of my mind. The busiest part of my job is over, so I should be able to devote more time to writing. I do want to avoid any kind of burnout, but how is that possible with these two knuckle heads??  
> This mainly just fluff, not a ton of plot. Something fun and cute for Christmas! :D

“If you don’t get out, I’m making the bed with you in it,” Ichigo said, sighing, and staring at the mop of blue hair on his pillow. This was getting out of hand. He was gone out of his room for five minutes max, and now it was being occupied by a sleepy, ex-arrancar. All he got was a grunt in reply.

“C’mon, man, I need to change my sheets.”

Grimmjow grunted again and turned his back towards him, facing the wall instead. He still had on his black jumpsuit, and two belts, jacket no where to be seen. Pantera was propped up on the end of the bed against the frame.

Ichigo groaned. Grimmjow was in one of his lazy moods again. He probably wouldn’t leave for the entire day, instead taking up _his_ bed, instead of the one Ichigo knew he had at the shoten. Why those had been happening more as of late, he had no idea, but he didn’t know the arrancar’s motivations on a good day. Ichigo tried not to dwell the on the ex-espada very much, which was incredibly difficult to do, since he’d been basically living at the shoten for the past few months. Ichigo would even wager he’d been in the human world more than Hueco Mundo as of late. Urahara must’ve roped him into something…again.

“Fine, but I warned you.” Changing the sheets was obviously out of the question with the blue lump in them, but he could definitely make do on his promise to make the bed. Walking over to the bed, the first thing he did was slide his hand under Grimmjow and yank out the pillow he was nearly nuzzling into. Big bastard. Grimmjow turned his head slightly and glared sleepily at him. Ichigo just stuck out his tongue at him and smashed the pillow down over his face as straight as he could and threw the flat sheet over him, not giving him an opportunity to fight against it.

Grimmjow barely moved as the man swept the cloth over him, trying for as wrinkle free as possible, with a body beneath it. Lastly, Ichigo drew the duvet atop it, and patted it around the form. The only movement Grimmjow made was to bring his head on top of the pillow instead of beneath it. Ichigo had the sudden incredible urge to draw the covers up closer to the man and run fingers through that blue hair of his, but squashed it flat. It was a recipe for getting his hand gnawed off.

“What do they do, put a sedative in your food?” Ichigo asked, hands on his hips and staring down at the arrancar in his bed. Grimmjow only grunted again, not using any actual understandable speech, eyes closed and shifted slightly underneath the covers until he was on his back. Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Just leave the way you came when you’re done…whatever it is you’re doing.” He thought briefly about telling him not to come downstairs, but if there was one way to actually get him to do something, it was by expressly forbidding it. _Besides, it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere anytime soon._

Ichigo wasn’t sure if he heard him with the soft snoring that started a second later. He knew he should kick him out, he really should, but his sisters were on break for the holidays finally, and he wanted to spend some quality time with his family. Arguing with the blue-haired menace would only end up in a fight, and then he wouldn’t get any of Yuzu’s Christmas cookies. Speaking of which, he was definitely late downstairs. If he didn’t get going soon, Kon would scream up the entire flight of stairs, wake up Grimmjow and there would be a fight anyway.

Ichigo turned around, looking back only once at the man in his bed before and walked over to the wall, flicking off the light switch as he walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He shook his head—he’d deal with Grimmjow later, whatever his issue was. Maybe this was a new tactic of trying to goad Ichigo into a fight? A new way to irritate him into it? He’d tried biting, hitting his head, and once he’d even tried the whole ‘ignore’ thing, which lasted all of seven minutes and twenty-three seconds. Ichigo counted. Grimmjow wasn’t the most patient person he’d met. He pondered the situation as he walked down the stairs, sliding his open palm along the railing, until he came to the bottom stair.

He spotted Kon sitting on the kitchen counter, flour all over his body and holding a cookie cutter in the shape of a candy cane. Ichigo sighed. Looks like Kon was on cookie duty this time. _So what am I going to be doing?_

“Well it’s about time you got down here you lazy sack of bones! How dare you leave me to fend for myself down here!” Kon said, throwing the cutter in his general direction, missing entirely and hitting the floor in front of him with a sad little clink of metal.

Ichigo deadpanned at him, staring at the flour on his face. One of his beady eyes was completely white, and Ichigo would be lying if he said that didn’t bother him. It didn’t matter to Kon since he couldn’t feel it apparently, but it looked hella weird. Reaching down and picking up the cookie cutter, he gave it a couple tosses in the air. These were cutters his mother used, if his memory was right. She loved Christmas and all the festivities. Yuzu and Isshin made a big fuss every year over it, something Ichigo always rolled his eyes at; but he not-so-secretly enjoyed it as well. It was a good way to spend time together, and a way to keep his mothers memory alive. _Maybe this year I could keep Dad from decorating that big poster though…._

Walking over to the dirty mod-soul, he took his thumb and swiped it over the flour eye and sighed at him, fuzzy plush arms crossed over his chest. He was trying to look intimidating, but Ichigo figured it would be difficult for any two foot, sentient stuffed animal to do, honestly. He was no exception.

“Kon you’ve made a huge mess,” Ichigo said, setting the cutter down opposite of him. There was an array scattered on top of the counter. Mitten, candy cane, santa hat, gingerbread man, bell, and his personal favorite, a snowflake. Ichigo picked that one up and traced along the edge. Yuzu was around the counter, shuffling stuff around in the refrigerator.

“And that surprises you how exactly? I don’t even have fingers.” He rolled his eyes as Yuzu laughed, shutting the door. Looking around, he didn’t see the other girl wandering around. Normally she’d be harassing Kon about who knew what.

“Where’s Karin?”

“Oh I sent her out to grab a few things. She should be back in a few. You sure took a long time up there,” Yuzu said, starting the water for the sink so she could do up the dishes. _She must’ve just finished the cookie dough._

Ichigo sweat dropped. He was hoping he could not talk about the menace sleeping in his bed currently. Grimmjow had only dropped by the house twice before, and only one of those times was anyone home—Isshin.

_“So you’re the arrancar staying at Urahara’s, huh?” Isshin asked the man, giving him an apprising once over. Ichigo frowned at his father, opening his mouth to say something rude._

_Grimmjow raised his brow._

_“Yeah, so,” the man asked, crossing his arms across his chest, jumpsuit unzippled low enough for the top of his hollow hole to stand out against pale, scarred, flesh._

_Ichigo’s face fell into his hands; leave it to the big angry smurf to make things awkward. Grimmjow was just coming to get him for their fight, since Ichigo was going to be like five minutes late. Who knew the guy was so punctual? Urahara said he was usually late to everything._

_Isshin said nothing for a couple of moments, while Ichigo desperately tried to not shuffle his feet like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hands were at his sides, and Grimmjow definitely wasn’t a cookie jar, even if Ichigo wouldn’t mind a small taste. Discretely, he pinched the skin on the side of his thigh, as a distraction. He didn’t need his father to see him blush, he’d never let him hear the end of it._

_“Interesting. I suppose I can approve, we were all young once, after all.”_

_Ichigo’s mouth fell open and his father gave him a wink. That was usually the last thing on his mind! Isshin turned around quickly and waved._

_“I’ll make sure to throw up a silencing kido for your room.” Ichigo’s eye twitched, Grimmjow didn’t seem affected at all. Ichigo wasn’t in the mood to explain the dirty old man’s brand of weird to the arrancare. That was one big can of nope for another time._

Ichigo shook his head from the memory. He didn’t know what his father thought Grimmjow and Ichigo did, and really, he didn’t want to know. _I mean, I can assume, but…._ Ichigo shook his head and imagined himself slapping his old man over the head with a waffle iron.

“Uh, yeah. Decided to make my bed.” _It’s not a lie, there’s just someone in it right now._

“Didn’t know that took twenty minutes.” Kon said, eyeing him suspiciously, trying to wipe the flour off his face. He only smeared it around deeper into the plush fabric. Ichigo scowled at his plush monster of a mod-soul. Kon knew a bit more than everyone else, and way more than Ichigo liked for sure. He leveled a stern look at the stuffed animal.

“You’re getting a bath after this.” Ichigo said, picking him up by one triangle on his mane. Kon only wiggled around a little, waving his arms around and whacking Ichigo on the wrist with it excitedly, smile evident on his fuzzy maw .

“Then we better call Orihime and Yoruichi! Rangiku too! I need my lovely bath filled with busty maidens and—"

“They won’t fit in the washing machine,” Ichigo said, cutting the stuffed animal off from his perverted scheming daydreams. 

Kon deflated and pouted, as much as a stuffed animal could, frown on his puffy lower lip, muttering something about _never letting him have any fun._ Ichigo sighed and shook his head, letting the mod-soul drop back down to the kitchen counter, in a less flour-y area. Kon walked over to the biggest left-over pile he could find and sat in it perfectly, his little lion ass getting powdered nicely in all the wrong, plushy places. Ichigo groaned, irritated at his little mod-moron. 

“So, what are we doing, exactly?” He asked, looking away from the mess that was Kon, turning his attention to his sister.

“Sugar cookies!” Yuzu said excitedly, holding up two cutters. Ichigo frowned, _I guess that was a dumb question, given the circumstances._ He glanced sideways at Kon, who snorted in agreement.

“I’ve got the dough chilling right now, and I’m getting ready to mix up the icing into my piping bags,” Yuzu continued, setting down the cutters and beginning to organize them in some kind of fashion, and sweeping the rest of the flour into a small trash bag.

Ichigo smiled at her; she really loved baking, especially these cookies. It was their mom’s recipe, after all. Doing so made it feel like their mother was right there helping them. 

“Alright, what can I do to help?” he asked, taking the bag from her and sweeping the remains of the flour into it, lifting up his pouting lion and dusting his ass in it for good measure. Kon yelled at being man-handled, but that was nothing new.

“Stay out of the way, probably,” Karins voice called out, cutting through Kon’s little tantrum, the sound of the door shutting behind her. Ichigo rolled his eyes and set him back down on the counter, where he began to kick him.

“Oh you’re back! Did you get the—”

“Yeah yeah, I got it. It’s starting to snow too,” Karin said, cutting her off and plopping one bag on the counter, setting one directly on top of Kon, and purposely setting the heavier one, he guessed anyway, on his foot. Ichigo glared at her.

Yuzu’s eyes lit up like a yuletide log on a bonfire. Kon’s muffled screams and thrashing body went basically unnoticed.

“Kon and I have the baking under control, Karin, why don’t you get the decorations out of storage. Ichi-nii will you put the lights up?”

Ichigo nodded an affirmative and got to work.

…

It was nearing evening by the time he was finished, the sun setting low behind the clouds, lighting the horizon aflame in a wash of reds, yellows and oranges. Snow fell steadily in fat flakes, dusting the ground in a blanket of white.

It only took him the last remaining minutes of daylight to put the ladder away and get inside the house, back to the warmth he so desired. Fingers numb and red, nose cold and ears tingling, Ichigo rubbed his hands together to try and create some friction, but got pins and needles instead. 

“I’ve got some hot chocolate for you Ichi-nii!” Yuzu called out from the kitchen, holding a steaming mug of heaven between her hands. He took it gratefully, smiling at his sister.

Something warm and savory filtered through his nostrils, smelling up the whole downstairs area and making Ichigo’s mouth water. Whatever Yuzu was making for dinner was gonna be _amazing_.

“Oh, thanks. I’m gonna change real quick, and be back down. Where’s Kon?” Ichigo didn’t see him as he swung his head around. Yuzu and Karin were now decorating the tree, the final step of the decorating, while their father, who must’ve gotten done early in the clinic, was carefully putting the hooks onto the glass balls and handing them off to one of the girls. He had a jingly headband on, in the shape of reindeer antlers, making a tinkling sound every time he turned his head. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the sight, _if he tries to put one of those dumb things on my head…._

“He went up to your room a few minutes ago, why?” Ichigo’s eyes widened. _He did WHAT?_

Ichigo’d almost forgotten about the maniac napping in his bed like he owned it. He had to get upstairs quick, but without alerting his family. Subtleness was the key. 

“No reason, be right back!” He yelled as he took off up the stairs throwing his hat and scarf into a heap at the edge of the living room. He thought he heard his father chuckle and say something about hormones before he ascended the stairs two at a time.

Stopping at the front of his door, Ichigo listened for the sound of a small lion plush being brutally ripped apart, but heard nothing indicating obvious malice. Slowly, he opened the door and tiptoed inside, shutting it softly behind him. Kon was right in front of him, eyes wide and staring to the figure still in the bed on its side.

“Ichigo,” Kon stage whispered, paw hiding his lion-mouth. “Ichigo I think there’s someone in your bed.”

 _No shit, sher-lion,_ he thought, eyebrow twitching.

“Yeah, it’s Grimmjow.” He said, keeping his voice low, but above a whisper. It was high time the blue-haired fiend woke up. He’d be needing it in a few hours, and he still needed to change the sheets. Ichigo walked over to him, with every intention of shaking him awake, but stopped.

He was on his side, facing the wall, mouth hanging open slightly, and snoring softly. The crease long gone from his skinny eyebrows, frowny muppet mouth in a placid, neutral expression, his skin smooth and without any blemishes. It was the most peaceful look Ichigo thought he was capable of making plastered on his usually feral face. Ichigo looked on him in almost wonder; he was incredibly handsome, Ichigo noticed for the…he counted on his fingers internally…fifteenth time this month.

_I wonder why he’s so tired,_ Ichigo thought, kneeling down beside the side of the bed, resting his elbows on it and sitting forward on his knees. Grimmjow had been going back and forth between annoyingly energetic and absolutely lethargic lately; there was very little in between with the guy, though the energetic side usually won out in the end. The first time Ichigo had seen him be absolutely lazy as fuck, he thought he was dying and freaked out.

_“No no, dear Ichigo,” Urahara said, ushering him out of the sleepy arrancar’s room quickly. “He’s just fine, just tired.”_

_“I didn’t think he got tired. He acts like he eats whole coffee beans for breakfast.” Urahara laughed at that._

_“He tried that once,” Urahara said as he shrugged and walked towards the living room, sitting down at the low table and taking a big gulp of his drink. Ichigo raised an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue. Surely he wasn’t serious. Urahara shrugged at him._

_“Jinta told him it was cereal.”_

_That was more believable, Ichigo thought. The little shit; he suddenly felt a little bad for Grimmjow, staying in a house with Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, Cat-woman, if cat-woman liked less clothes, Chuckie and Angelica from the Rugrats, and Tessai._

_“Took the kids a couple hours to get him to stop climbing up the walls in the bunker.”_

_“You sent Jinta nad Ururu to take care of that? Are you nuts?” Classic Urahara, pawing the dirty work off on someone else, especially if was over unnecessary things. Ichigo was a little surprised, Urahara normally loved to instigate chaos, or at least, muddle around in it._

_Urahara chuckled. “Only on a good day,” was his cryptic, and quite frankly, insane response._

_“Did this just happen yesterday?” Urahara laughed again. “No no, of course not. That was a couple weeks ago.” Ichigo groaned. Just a couple weeks and not like, the first day Grimmjow decided he’d stay at Urahara’s half the time? Oh shit._

_“Why is he so tired then,” he asked, changing the subject, hoping for a more lighthearted turn of conversation. He was sorely disappointed._

_“An experiment.” Ichigo barely contained his fist from punching him in the face, a move that didn’t go unnoticed. Urahara held up his hands defensively, cheeky grin on his face._

_“Now now, before you do anything drastic. Grimmjow was the one who asked. I’m merely helping him.”_

_Yeah right, Ichigo wanted to say. He’d been through god only knew what with Aizen, there was no way in hell he’d let Urahara get his little Jeckyll hands on him. Grimmjow would probably rather eat his own tail like an ouroboros._

_“With what?” Urahara didn’t answer, as per usual, not that Ichigo was expecting much from him at this point. He’d grown use to the genius bastard, all sly face and joker grin._

_Ah shit, he thought._

“WHAT? IT’S WH-“

Ichigo ripped off his cold, sweaty sock and stuffed it into the lion’s mouth. Kon only got louder, thrashing his little plush body all over the ground and choking on it. He watched as Kon through his second, _it’s at least his second,_ fit today. Ichigo had been outside most of the day, so he wasn’t sure what nonsense he got into it with his sisters.

“Kon, will you shut up? You’re going to wake him up!” Ichigo yell whispered, whipping his head around to the lion, who was now crying about the unfairness of it all. _If I had a body like Ichigo’s this; if I had abs like yours that._

“Give it a rest you monster,” he growled out, shoving the sock back into his mouth, the feral little brat.

Eventually the noise roused the sleepy head in the bed and Ichigo heard the rustling of covers.

“Keep it down, will ya?” a tired voice said. Ichigo turned back to the bed and noticed blue blinking at him, head mostly covered by the duvet. A few strands of hair in his face, he looked as unguarded as Ichigo had ever seen him, sending a blooming warmth through his body unexpectedly. He wanted to tell the man to get out of his bed, but instead he shifted closer, until his elbows were propped up on the bed behind his kneeling body. Grimmjow didn’t move away, but continued to watch him through a bleary gaze, and bared a small snarl. _Real scary dummy,_ Ichigo thought fondly.

“Why are you so tired?” Grimmjow blinked slowly at him, until his eyes stayed closed, not bothering to answer, as per usual. He didn’t seem to mind that Ichigo was just watching him as his breath evened out, nearing another haze of sleep.

Eventually, Ichigo reached out his hand gingerly, and swept the few strands of blue away from the man’s face. Grimmjow’s eyes shot open instantly, glaring at his hand for a moment before turning to his face, burning a hole through him. Ichigo felt heat rise to his face. _Shit, bad move. Forgot he was kinda touchy._ Touchy in the sense that he appeared to hate it. He always swatted and clawed at any casual interaction Ichigo had tried with him before, so eventually he just stopped trying, limiting the contact he had with him to their sparring matches. Not that Ichigo didn’t want to touch, he was trying to think of another way, but so far, nothing had come across as a good idea. And Kon’s suggestion a few weeks ago _tying him up and see where it goes_ was definitely in the realm of bad decisions.

“Ah, sorry.” Ichigo said, not quite knowing what else to say.

_Sorry I want to touch you all the time._

_Sorry all I think about sometimes in our matches is how soft I bet your hair is._

_Sorry I don’t know how to get you to accept even the most casual of touches._

Ichigo sighed softly, curling his fingers into a small fist; everything he was sorry for were things out of his control. Feelings that had sprung up between matches that he never batted away until they were to rooted in him to tear out. The more Ichigo realized his feelings and what had changed, the more Grimmjow seemed to stay the same. _Then again, when you’re, what, basically immortal, everything stays more or less the same._

He began to bring his hand back until Grimmjow caught it with his own hand, still laying on his side. Ichigo’s eyes widened at the initiated contact, he never touched people _. Unless it was to try and turn their bones into toothpicks._

He watched with unhidden interested, face a slight pink, as Grimmjow pushed open Ichigo’s hand with his own and flatted it, their palms touching, hands pressed together. Ichigo’s heart leapt into his chest, Kon going absolutely silent behind him. He could feel the sword callouses on his fingers, rough and scratchy, but also the softer parts in the center of his palm. Ichigo didn’t expect his skin to be so warm, like he was grasping at fire, only a breath away from getting burned.

Grimmjow’s hand was slightly bigger than his own; Ichigo followed Grimmjow’s gaze on their hands, at a complete loss of what to do, on what was happening. Grimmjow bent the first knuckles of his fingers slightly over Ichigo’s, causing his to bend down as well, dragging the scarred tips of his fingers down Ichigo’s agonizingly slow down, trailing over his fingers and palm.

“Grimm…jow?” Ichigo asked quietly as he drew invisible patterns into his palm, sending molten fire through his veins. Hopefully the other man wouldn’t catch the slight tremble in his voice. _What the hell is wrong with him?_

“Your skin is soft.” Ichigo felt his brain short circuit. Soft? _His_ hands? How? Why? When? What the hell was going on? Did Grimmjow get concussed hard enough to actually start being _nice?_ That wasn’t really his thing. Ichigo was sure he looked as dumb as he felt, a million expressions filtering through his face, poorly hidden as per usual.

“Figured out how to turn off my hierro,” Grimmjow said after a while, dropping his hand and beginning to sit up in the bed. His hair was sticking up in unruly spikes, and falling forward. Ichigo had never saw him without his hair swept back in his weird yet fitting greaser style, and it only made him want to bury his burning fingers into it. He was sure the blush was a permanent feature on his face for now, and didn’t even bother to try and hide it. Darkness had set in outside anyway, the only illumination in the room was the rising moon outside Ichigo’s small window. He heard Kon shuffle around behind him, scooting farther away. 

Grimmjow grabbed at Ichigo’s hand once more as soon as he was sitting upright and brought close enough to himself that Ichigo had to lean over the bed a little. Hands began to trail up his arm, feeling along lean, corded muscles and fading tanned skin. Kon let out a small squeak and bolted for the door, slamming it behind him. Ichigo didn’t even want to know what he was going to tell his father. 

“Are all humans skin this soft?” Ichigo sucked in a breath, not quite knowing how to answer, as he watched and felt the hands keep moving further up his arm, stopping at his bicep to encircle it with both hands. As two thumbs kneaded into his muscle for a few seconds, Ichigo stared wide-eyed at him, his mouth dry; _his hands are bigger than I remember, have they always been this big?_ Ichigo didn’t get a whole lot of contact with the man’s hands, other than claws trying to rake across his face every other week for a year and a half. It didn’t exactly make for warm fuzzies fluttering about, unlike the current situation.

But right now, if he didn’t get water soon, he’d shrivel up like a sad little fish and die, eyes bulging out of his skull before finally kicking the bucket. He didn’t realize Grimmjow was watching him until the thumbs stopped their ministrations to pinch him, his eyes shooting up to meet azure ones, nearly glowing in the darkness.

“Ow,” Ichigo said thoughtlessly, brushing his hand over the spot, their fingers meeting briefly. Grimmjow didn’t shy away from the contact this time.

“Does that really hurt?” Ichigo shook his head.

“No. More of a reflex.” Grimmjow cocked a single eyebrow at him, the only indication he may be confused. Ichigo wasn’t sure how to explain it, or why, for that matter. _Does he ever say stuff like that?_ He certainly didn’t think so. Grimmjow said what he meant, all of the time.

“So, uh, is this,” Ichigo gestured vaguely with his free arm to…all of him, body still half hidden under the covers, “what Urahara has been experimenting on you for?”

A single thumb pressed into the top of his bicep a little harder, massaging it in a circular motion. Well, massaging was a generous term, more like trying to knead it from the bone like a loaf of bread baked with violence instead of flour.

“Experimenting is a generous term. Torturing more like it,” he said finally, not letting up pressure on Ichigo’s arm. He was looking intently at the spot, like he could rub a hole in his arm. 

“Why that,” Ichigo asked, swatting at the thumb gently, and placing his hand over it, stopping the motion.

“It gets too much,” he admitted after a minute or two of silence, fingers flexing underneath Ichigo’s warm hand. “S’why I’m s’tired.” He slurred, body leaning against the metal headboard. Ichigo imagined it was probably cold, as Grimmjow flinched when he pressed his back against it. “How do you humans deal with it?”

Ichigo chuckled softly and stood slightly so he could sit on the poorly made bed, lifting his hand off the other’s. Grimmjow made no move to scoot over, so Ichigo was close to his legs, crossed under the sheets. Besides, the man’s hand was still encircling his bicep, the other raising slowly to meet it and slowly moving upward. Ichigo fought to suppress a shiver.

“Second nature to us, I guess.”

Grimmjow’s lip curled up in a sneer at his reply, fingers running over the short sleeve of his shirt. 

“Why did you want to dull your hierro, anyway? If you don’t like it.” Ichigo glanced over at the wandering fingers, not bothering to swat them away.

Grimmjow didn’t answer immediately, instead moving his hands to brush his fingertips down Ichigo’s shirt.

“Never said I didn’t like it,” he mumbled, voice barely audible, fingers fisting into the fabric of his shirt and tugging at it.

“Take this off.” Ichigo’s brain short-circuited, the wires crossing and splicing together in ways that no longer made sense.

“What now?”

“Your shirt. Lose it.”

“Why?” Ichigo was at a complete loss. Nothing made sense anymore, especially his senses. Grimmjow’s fingers twisted roughly in his shirt sent a jolt of electricity though him.

“Why do you think, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said, snarling, upper lip curled in a sneer.

“I wana touch you.”

_Oh boy._

“Why?” Ichigo croaked out, voice suddenly dry, throat parched, like he’d been drinking sand for days.

Grimmjow’s eye twitched in annoyance.

“Are you gonna, or do I need to rip it off instead.” Ichigo bit his tongue, suppressing the urge to say _I don’t think I’d mind._ Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but curiosity usually got the better of him in worse circumstances.

“Uh…yeah…” he muttered dumbly, face cherry red, redder than sunset, a fire in the core of the earth. He was going to turn into a tomato, and his sister would make a salad out of him.

Reaching behind him, Ichigo pulled at the shirt, drawing it up his body, over his head, and throwing it on the end of the bed. Before he’d even pulled it completely off, Grimmjow’s hands were already on his chest, rough finger pads dragging across his chest, outlining one pectoral muscle slowly, then the other. Ichigo tried to contain a hiss when the fiend drug a thumb over his nipple, a noise not going unnoticed.

“Why did you make that sound?” Ichigo bit down on his bottom lip. This man was going to kill him, one way or another, he was sure of it now. Worse yet, at the moment, he’d let him.

“It’s uh…sensitive area,” he choaked out, not daring to look him in the eyes. And because Grimmjow was a bastard of the worst, _or best,_ kind he drug his thumb over the hardening bud again, even more slowly this time. Ichigo sucked in a breath, chest rising, muscles tensing.

“Thought it was second nature,” Grimmjow said, grin splitting onto his face. _Oh no. That’s never a good face. That’s his I’m gonna fuck you up face._

“Well uh…some areas are a little more—ahhh!” Grimmjow pinched him once more, this time over the sensitive bud; Ichigo’s hand wrapped around his boney wrist, tightening to a hard pressure. Grimmjow released him, but not before flicking across the now hard nipple and pressing his whole hand down onto him. His grin was wider now, face inching closer to his own. Ichigo refused to budge.

“That was a neat sound,” he growled out, the vibrations going straight to Ichigo’s groin. He drug his hand to the center of his chest and curled his fingers in slowly. “What else ya got in there?” He brought his other hand to Ichigo’s chest, sweeping them down, scratching down his pecs, down his ribs and lower still, until he got to the hem of Ichigo’s jeans.

 _I’m going to die, right here in my own bed._ Heart beating erratically, he was sure Grimmjow could hear it. Feel it even.

 _Fuck that,_ he thought, reaching out with his own hands around Grimmjow’s arms to the top of his exposed, jacketless shoulders, he placed a hand on either one, and mimicked the arrancar’s motion, making sure to dig his fingernails into the man’s sensitive skin. He felt Grimmjow’s muscles tense at the reaction, but didn’t flinch away. Ichigo noticed his now blown pupils in the glow of his almost bioluminescent eyes, the twitching of fingers on his hips, the short, almost panted breaths. _All this from one little touch, huh?_

Placing his hands on the undersides of the ex-espadas wrists, he moved them upwards, along the soft, _fuck my skin why is his skin so soft? Has it always been like this?_ , soft skin on the underside of his arms, circling back around and starting down his ribcage. Unfortunately, he was still wearing his jumpsuit, so Ichigo didn’t know if he could feel the movements very well. Glancing up at the man’s face said he could feel just fine, and maybe even enjoyed it.

Ichigo suddenly wanted to flip on the light on his desk beside the bed, just so he could see his expression better. The only thing really visible now was his eyes, smoldering into an area right about the center of Ichigo’s chest. A sudden flicker of courage lit in his belly, and Ichigo wrapped each hand around the man’s wrist and tugged slightly, urging him to come closer, digging the nails of his thumbs between lithe muscle.

Grimmjow, ever the one to not comply to anything ever, growled, breaking out of his trance.

Ichigo sighed. _So much for that._

“Urahara doesn’t do this right? I mean, stuff like this?” Grimmjow shot him a horrified expression, hackles rising. Ichigo could feel him tense up at the thought of Urahara touching him so intimately. Hell, Ichigo probably tensed up right along with him, not liking the idea of _anyone_ else touching him like this. 

“ _Fuck no_ ,” he seethed. “I’d kill him if he ever tried.”

Ichigo stopped moving entirely. He may have even stopped breathing. Licking his lips, he tried to work the oxygen around in his body around with pure willpower.

“So…why are you letting me?” he asked, looking directly into Grimmjow’s eyes. Sleep no longer invading blue orbs, instead he was met with a mixture of indignation and another emotion, one he couldn’t quite place. Ichigo didn’t even realize his hand reaching out towards his face until teeth caught his pointer and middle fingers between sharp points.

What was with his limbs acting on their own? What a traitorous body, his autonomy was a joke. Zangetsu was probably laughing at him right now. Well, he was probably always laughing at him, but for now a different reason.

A tongue flicked over his fingers and Ichigo thought he was going to need Orihime to help restart his heart.

“So how does that feel?” Ichigo asked, no squeak in his voice, thanks. _Yeah, go ahead and tell me how it feels sucking on my finger’s you pervert,_ Ichigo thought, blush spreading his face not for the first time today. Not even for the seventh.

“Weird,” he said, not releasing trapped fingers, lips pressing and lifting across Ichigo’s skin as he spoke. He felt a hand slide onto his upper thigh.

 _Please don’t tell me I’m going to have to explain what an erection is._ That would not be the highlight of his day. In fact, Ichigo would go so far as to call it the low-light. He’d been half hard before Grimmjow decided to suck on his fingers, now his jeans were uncomfortably tight. If Grimmjow found out he’d made Ichigo pop a boner, he was pretty sure he’d die on the spot. _At least Kon left,_ he thought with a small frown, as the hand rubbed back and forth sluggishly on his thigh.

Gritting his teeth, Ichigo tried to calm his body down by breathing in rhythmically. If Grimmjow noticed he didn’t care.

“Grimmjow,” he said, aiming for a level voice, but instead it sounded low and gravely. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow brought his gaze up towards him languidly, eyes taking in whatever he could see in the darkness of the room. _Since he’s like…a cat-man, he’s probably getting an eyeful._

“Something you wana say?” Grimmjow said, letting Ichigo’s fingers slip from his hot mouth. Ichigo missed the warmth immediately, dragging his wet fingers across the man’s bottom lip. His lips were soft, like they’d never been chapped once in his life. _How is that even possible,_ he thought, swallowing thickly. _Doesn’t he live in a desert?_ Ichigo sucked in a breath. Not like it mattered, since the big blue turd had been in the living world almost constantly the last couple months.

“What are you doing?” _What are you doing to me,_ he really wanted to ask, but bit his tongue. Letting his hand drop from the mans face, he settled against strong arms, still grabbing at the top of his pants, elbows bent, arms relaxed.

“Thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Humor me.”

“I’m touching you. Take your pants off,” Grimmjow growled out. _There was absolutely no humor in that you dick._

Ichigo didn’t move to do as the man demanded, instead flexing his own hands against Grimmjow’s biceps. There was no way he was taking his pants off while the house was occupied by his little sisters and his dumb-ass pervert of a father to let the arrancar….

“You never answered my question.”

“Pants. Off.” Grimmjow’s hands clenched on his hips.

“Question. First. Why do you let me—”

Grimmjow sprung up from his position on the bed like a tightly wound coil, knocking Ichigo against his chest and onto the hard floor, crashing onto it with a thud. Planting a hand on either side of his head, he dipped low.

“And I said, pants. Off,” he growled in Ichigo’s ear, flicking a hot wet tongue across the shell of his ear. That shiver Ichigo wasn’t able to suppress, hands pressed flush against the arrancar’s half zippered chest. _For a dead guy, he sure is warm._ He could feel the strain of the confinement of his pants, pressing up against the thick material of his jeans. Ichigo didn’t move as Grimmjow sat back on his knees, dragging his hands down each side of him.

“You seem to be enjoying this,” Ichigo heard him say through lidded, unfocused eyes. He’d _never_ been this effected by any touch before. Why was his so different? His body was winding up more and more by the second. Grimmjow sounded like he was enjoying himself too, and Ichigo told him as much in what words would come out of his useless mouth.

“Not wrong there.” Grimmjow said easily, like he didn’t have the twice over savior of the soul society/hueco mundo/ living world trembling at his fingertips in a hot mess. Ichigo felt two thumbs press right into his hips, shooting an unexpected wave of pleasure up and down Ichigo’s spine. He forced his hips down so they wouldn’t buck up into the blue-haired incubus on top of him.

He felt the thumbs drag across the bones of his hips before dragging down, hooking into the loops of his pants, the ones closest to his crotch and kneading the area. Ichigo bit down on his lip. _Why the fuck is he so good at this? Isn’t he supposed to be new at this? Is he just naturally good at everything that’s bad for me?_ His head was swirling between questions and pleasure, leading him into the small, unsafe area of hazy unconcern between them.

He felt the man settle onto him, his weight full and the pressure was almost more than he could take. Squeezing his eyes shut, he sensed Grimmjow lean over him once more, hot breath ghosting over his face, pulling the faintest whine through Ichigo’s clenched teeth.

“I won’t tell you again,” he growled against Ichigo’s skin, pressing his lips along his jawline and dragging down. Breath hitched in his throat, mouth dropped open, panting against the man’s neck. _This so isn’t fair,_ Ichigo thought, head falling to one side, giving Grimmjow access to…whatever the hell he wanted, honestly. There was a tug on his jeans, and Ichigo raised his hips, allowing the man to start releasing him from his denim chastity pants.

 _We were all young once,_ Isshin’s voice echoed in his head. Absently, he wondered if his old man had actually gone through with his remark of putting a silencing kido on his room. He had a feeling he would need it pretty soon.

Stomping upstairs and a slightly jingling was the only indication of the bad thing coming up them. Ichigo’s eyes shot open, grabbing a hold of Grimmjow’s wrists, and forcing his hips back down on the floor, pressing against it. Grimmjow jolted against him, surprised at his sudden reaction and frowned. He opened his mouth to speak but, Ichigo cut him off. He needed to move, and if Ichigo thrust him off, he was sure he’d need to go to the bathroom to take care of his problem himself.

“You have to get off right now or—” Isshin burst through the door sans knock, as per usual, elbow out on the offence. He didn’t even bother flicking the light on, a small mercy Ichigo was incredibly thankful for, given the circumstances. The light from the hallway was bad enough, illuminating their curious position—Grimmjow sitting on Ichigo’s thighs, face a shade of red Ichigo never imagined he’d see cross it. Ichigo wasn’t much better at the moment, face equally as red, he was sure, hands gripping the other man’s wrists, shirt off, top of his boxers visible.

“Ichigooo!! What is going…” Isshin stopped and stared at his heathen of a son, disappointed perhaps, but not surprised, pinned, shirtless, under arguably one of the most violent ex-espada straddling his hips, hands dangerously close to his crotch. He frowned slightly at the sight, before letting his elbow drop.

“Ichigo, you know I love you because you’re my son, but if you do the dirty with your blue haired demon,” Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, face burning and nostrils flared, but Isshin stopped him, “with your innocent sisters in this house, I will tie you up and give you to Urahara in nothing but a women’s swimsuit.” Ichigo sucked in a breath, closing his mouth, and armed Grimmjow off him, who thankfully didn’t put up a fight, fingers unhooking from his belt loops. He didn’t bother telling his father about some of the tik toks Karin and Yuzu had sent him—they were far from angelic, the little devils.

Isshin crossed his arms and leaned against the door way, watching the pair, bells on the ridiculous headband he was still wearing reflecting the light from the hallway. 

“Well, best get dressed and downstairs, dinner is ready. Bring your…friend.” Ichigo and Grimmjow turned to him simultaneously, Isshin just shrugged. “Your sisters will want to meet him,” he said, as if that would explain everything. _Yeah right,_ Ichigo thought, snorting. He just wanted an excuse to get them out of their former precarious situation.

He got dressed quickly, glaring daggers at his father who refused to turn away, glaring right back at him. Rolling his eyes, he glanced towards the arrancar, who was also watching him, but his gaze was harder to read. Ichigo felt more like prey under his eyes, so he turned back to his father, who had fixed his eyes on the ex-espada. 

“Will you _please_ leave you old goat? I’ve gotta change my—”

“Then he comes too,” Isshin interrupted, nodding to Grimmjow. Ichigo shrugged when Grimmjow gave him a lazy frown. Bending down, he picked up a black hooded sweatshirt pooled at his feet, and threw it at the man. At least that was one way Yuzu could see him—a disembodied hoodie, floating in the air and harassing Ichigo. He caught it and forced it over his head without a second thought. Perfect. Isshin pivoted and walked out of the room, apparently satisfied with that, footsteps rumbling down the hall towards the stairs. Grimmjow caught Ichigo by the wrist before he wiggled out of his still too tight pants, leaning close to his body, feeling the warmth of the man’s hand on his molten skin.

“Save room for dessert,” he purred in Ichigo’s ear, giving his jaw a quick lick with the tip of his tongue, before swiveling around and walking straight out the door.

Ichigo grinned at his retreating form.

“I fully intend to.”


End file.
